"Being immortal is what makes life precious in the first place. It is not how long you live, but what of the time you make in this world."—Doga
Aga stumbled.
The stench of blood, sulfur, and smoke faded from his nose, replaced with the musty scent of darkness and fae. Hazy clouds were replaced with cool, blue light as the pain in his body from all the cuts and injuries he sustained dissipated.
… What injuries?
Memories faded from his mind, like dreams upon waking. Aga still saw vague images of plunging the Chronicle into the Genie's host. A boy with white hair. Aga remembered fire and ash and smoke and hurting Toan and doing a lot of things he shouldn't have.
The Chronicle. Aga looked down, but his hands still gripped his old, crimson blades. They were wet with blood, too much. Or perhaps not enough.
"Don't move!" a girl cried. Aga froze. Monica. The girl from the future. She faced him, sword raised.
And not just her. Arc and Toan, too, with other children joining in. They all watched him with expressions ranging from caution to fear to deep pain.
All of the Crystal's heroes, together. Against him.
He hurt them all. Monica, Arc, Toan…
Because he was too weak to resist the Dark Genie. Because he gave place in his heart for such a monster, he caused far more damage than he could ever hope to repair. Evidenced now by the way even his own sons glared his way. Oh, well. That was fate. That was fair. By the Sun, Aga deserved it. He dropped his swords and waited for one of them to kill him.
The Genie was gone. He felt it in the air and saw it in the way the Chronicle II lay shattered on the ground. Just like there was one sword forged for the sole purpose of killing the snake in Matataki, there was one sword forged specifically to take into itself all the power the Genie possessed. It overrode that dark timeline and stopped it from existing, and in so doing prevented any more such timelines from being the one true timeline. But such power was too much and ended up destroying the sword itself.
Just like it was time for Aga to accept the end and be removed from this world. It was a small mercy, certainly far more than he deserved.
Everyone watched Aga, from what he saw in the shadow of his helmet. The greatest in the world, all gathered together and ready to tear him to pieces the moment he moved.
Why did they wait? Aga frowned. He was open. Vulnerable. This was their chance.
"He will return," Aga said. "Don't let him."
Something glinted in Toan's eyes and he pulled out his dagger.
And for the first time in so many years, Aga felt hope at the sight of that black steel. He bowed his head, ready. How poetic, that his life be ended by his wife's own blade.
"Dad, is it gone?"
Aga snapped his eyes open again and inwardly cursed; Toan toyed with fate. "I am a bringer of death," Aga said. "I left you and your mother to suffer for ten years for the sake of my own pride. I killed your brother."
Remember, my son. Choose what's reasonable. Choose to follow your heart like you did last time. Choose what's right.
"No," Toan said, letting his dagger fall to his side with a soft thud. "You left Mom and I, yes, and I can't forgive that just yet. But you didn't kill Arc."
"Toan," Monica said slowly, warning in her voice. "He's dangerous."
Listen to her!
"Wait," one of the other children said. A boy with freckles and chestnut hair. He looked at Aga with a straight back, confidence in his face, and stepped closer. Aga breathed harder as Arc approached, his son looking for all the world like a toddling child again despite the ageless staff in his hands and the determination in his eyes.
Aga took a step back as Arc stopped not two feet in front of him. "Move," Aga said in his most commanding voice.
Arc didn't budge. "I've faced worse things than you," he said, even as he rubbed a hand at his chest where Aga had cut him. "And I've come too far to let you go. Too. Far."
The young mage was so Crystal-shatteringly tiny. And such a fool, so naive. Aga silently cursed his son's stupidity. Did he not learn his lesson in the forest?
Aga's eyebrow twitched. Perhaps he should push him away and reprimand him for putting himself in such blatant danger. Perhaps he should his pummel him with the back of one of his swords and teach him not to trust like this.
"He's not doing anything," someone whispered, surprised. Aga scowled. At this rate, they would all let their guards down. The Genie was gone, true, but that didn't mean it wouldn't come back. It always came back.
"Dad," Toan said, voice growing hoarse. "It really is you, isn't it?"
It was as he feared. Toan stepped forward, leaving his dagger. Arc turned from Aga to look at Toan, fingers gripping his staff tighter. To Aga's knowledge the two had yet to meet before this point.
Toan stared at Aga, mouth agape. Arc stepped back, allowing Toan to come further forward. They both regarded Aga and he saw in that moment how the separation of two continents did so little to change them. They looked so alike, with the same hue of brown in their hair and angular faces. Were they not wearing such vastly different attire, Aga doubted he would differentiate between them. Well, the attire and the skin tone. Toan's complexion was tanned, like all the Noruni's, while Arc somehow retained a pasty white color.
And Aga realized in that moment that he wanted to return with them to Norune. By the Crystals, he wanted another chance.
… Was that even possible?
"I think…" Arc said slowly, "that he's safe."
Toan nodded. "If he wanted to kill us, we'd both be dead by now."
Monica stepped closer, "But can we be certain?"
Aga grimaced. He may as well remove his armor at this point, for all the good it would do. He reached up, causing several to tense up and bring their weapons back out. Aga paused, then grabbed his helmet. He lifted it off, sweat-slicked hair sticking to his face.
Somehow, that seemed to satisfy Monica, and she and the other children hesitantly broke off, looking for other things to distract them. Conversation started up in patches, slow and quiet at first. They considered Aga not to be a threat.
Simba's beard.
"I'm sorry," Toan said, expression was unreadable. "I almost killed you again."
Again. Aga remembered the previous time, when everything ended with a swift strike of the Chronicle to the heart. "I have a favor to ask of you."
Toan snapped his head up, locking eyes with Aga, surprise written in his features. "I doubt that I will keep him out for long," Aga said, "Please… be ready. Reenact our previous encounter. Do what needs to be done."
Toan remained silent and Arc cast his brother a worried glance. Shatter all the Crystals, but Arc looked exactly like Renee, freckles and all.
"Seda," Toan said, "He kept it out when we killed the Genie then. It'll be the same for you."
Aga shook his head. "We don't know that."
"Then I guess we'll find out," Toan said stubbornly. "I think between Arc and I, we can keep you under control if needed."
"Toan," Aga said, "Don't put yourself at risk."
Toan opened his mouth, looking ready to protest, but then Refia swore loudly, "Ancients!" Her hands lit up with blue energy. "Luneth! You idiot! Wake up!"
Simba coughed dust from his lungs. Voices clamored around him. Familiar voices. He couldn't make sense of them—it was humanspeak. He'd spoken Demon for so long. So long. The Genie had him for… how long? Years?
No. Thousands. How many thousands, he didn't know.
And Simba was the Fairy King. He'd never been raised human, so he never got to learn human so much.
He wasn't human. He was fae.
But he was human. Once. Right?
Now?
Simba pushed against the ground. He felt weak and feeble, like his limbs could be torn apart with just a slight pull. Not like it should if he were really fae. He stretched out his fingers in the dirt, scraping dusty rock. His skin prickled and he made out tiny scrapes showing red and pink along his skin.
Yes. Human. This was the life he started to think he imagined. The life he'd thought was impossible. A dream, or maybe an illusion to keep himself sane amidst the chaos and terror of the Genie's mind.
But that wasn't here. It wasn't now.
Even his clothes felt different. They were tough and heavy. As Fairy King, he favored soft, silken robes that fluttered on the wind.
But not now. Not anymore.
This… this was "his."
"Luneth," came a familiar voice. The one that spoke to him, that invaded his mind and saw him for what he really was. The voice that reminded Simba he had something to fight for. He knew that voice. It reminded him of… "home."
It took a moment for him to translate the words. He hadn't spoken this tongue in millenia. And yet it had also only been seconds. "Luneth. Please. Say something."
He kept his eyes on the dirt. The air around him was dark, and heavy with dust. It smelled dank, but not unpleasantly so. It was musty, but also strangely… warm. Simba scraped his fingers through the dirt again, noticing a blue tint in the air that reflected off the cave's floor.
Crystal light. Specifically, the Water Crystal's light. Only it could give off such a deep, pure glow of blue.
Simba was surrounded by people—he felt it. He didn't want to look at them. Looking would mean a lot of things to remember and Simba didn't know if he could do that. Looking would mean owning up to the fact that he hurt—
Someone's calloused hands touched his cheek, then lifted his chin, forcing him to look into the face of a human girl with tanned skin and reddish eyes. "Are you in there?" she asked. "Are you okay?"
"S'kka—" Simba started. Someone murmured something under their breath. No. That was the wrong language. "... Yes," he managed. The word felt strange on his tongue, but somehow he knew it to be the right answer.
"We've tried curing you," she said, dropping her hand again. "But the magic won't work with your system."
"Why?" asked another, one that reminded Simba of loud voices and the rush of battle. "What happened?"
"I don't know," said the girl.
They had names. Names that meant something. Not in the way that fae names did, but in the way that their names meant who they were. And those names meant a lot to Simba. And he had a name that meant something to them.
"Who?" Simba said, voice scratching. "Who are you?"
"Crystals," someone swore. Someone that Simba never heard curse before. It should have been funny, he thought, though he especially struggled placing how that voice connected with him.
"I'm Refia," the girl said. "Don't you remember? We've been fighting together for years."
"I'm okay with you forgetting me," said the voice that sounded like adrenaline and fury.
"Same," said another from somewhere in the cave. Simba thought of ocean waves when he heard that one. Simba groaned, struggling to lift himself onto his hands.
"I'm Max," said one, also reminiscent of the ocean. "We've been traveling together for the past month."
Another said, "I'm your brother. Arc."
It all came back.
Screams pealed as memories surged, of another figure, an older version of him that he spoke with as a human. He had friends, bonds with humans. He had a family. He lived in Ur for such a long time he thought he would die from boredom when adventure finally knocked on his door and called him to the great open space of Blue Terra.
"Luneth," he managed, voice hoarse. "I'm Luneth."
He felt like he couldn't stand even if he wanted to. Shifting back to his human state, it felt like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"What else would you be?" Refia asked.
"The Fairy King," Arc said quietly. Right. He saw into Luneth's mind, saw it all. The captivity, the violence— "Aga said that he might be part fae, but we never thought—I didn't think—"
"Wait, who's the Fairy King?" Max asked.
"King of the fae," Monica said, as if that explained things further. "I think I've met him once."
Ingus rapped his spear sharply against the ground, "May we step back a moment, please? Luneth, you're fae?"
"Yes." Previous lives mixed together, so much swam in his head… but that much he kept straight. "I'm fae. And powerful, I guess."
"Definitely," Monica said. "You're a menace. My father told me horror stories about you to keep me in line."
"Luneth?" Ingus repeated in disbelief. "Your people will turn Luneth into a bedtime horror story?"
"I can see it," Arc said softly, causing a few laughs to ripple through the cave.
"This is Simba?" an older, deeper voice asked, Luneth looked up. Aga blended well into the shadows, but that gold on his armor gave him away. The same voice that Luneth thought never swore.
"Yes," Luneth said. "Why?"
"Oh, yeah," Arc said. "We finally found them, Luneth. This is Toan and Aga. My… family. They're a little different than I imagined, but I think you'll like them."
Luneth blinked. He already knew them. Was that from this timeline or the previous one?
Luneth groaned. Toan and Aga were supposed to be important, he knew, but at the moment all Luneth could think of was that he felt like his stomach was about to implode. "No one would happen to have any apples on them, would they?"
"You're the Fairy King," Toan said. "Can't you just, I don't know, summon them yourself?"
Luneth paused. "No, I don't think that's how it works." He didn't know how it did work, but those memories were starting to slowly filter back in. "Ugh, I don't want to think about that right now."
Monica took a breath and hefted her Chronicle Sword to her side, the weight of it comfortably familiar. The ache in her bones left her longing for a soft bed back in Palm Brinks.
"You're leaving already?" Toan asked.
"Yeah," Monica said, hefting her Chronicle Sword, "I'm pretty sure this can take us back to our time. Although…" she gave a pointed look to the glittering orange dust that now carpeted the cave's floor, "If there's any time-travelling you need to do, we can take care of that first."
"Uh, no. I think I'm good."
"Good," Monica held out her hand, which Toan took, "It was nice to meet you. Though I wish it could have been under better circumstances."
"Story of my life."
"Hey, hold on," Max said, "That sword can get us back home? Can it take us back here later?"
Monica grimaced, "I think we've done enough meddling with time, Max. Once we go back to Palm Brinks, we should probably stay there."
"… Yeah, I guess you're right."
"Well," Toan said, "You'll be welcome here if you change your mind."
Monica smiled, "Thank you."
She released Toan's hand and took Max's, holding the Chronicle Sword parallel to the ground. Closed her eyes and focused on the pulsing energies within the blade. Thought of Max's time. Palm Brinks, Zelmite Mine, and the feeling of passing from Sindain to Jurak Mall, Starlight Temple to Balance Valley, Veniccio to Luna Lab—
"Wait!" a voice shouted, one that Monica knew. "Wait just one second!"
She froze, dropping Max's hand as the power vanished from the Chronicle Sword. It vibrated in her hand, almost as if annoyed. Max and the others turned toward the cave entrance, where a tiny, big-eared figure waddled into view.
"Aw, man! Did I miss it already?"